


This is me, checking in

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mood Swings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick does his best to swoop in and save the day -- or at least, to save Bruce from spending another minute in the public eye while so obviously stressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is me, checking in

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a ton of work on my plate that I should be doing but I've been thinking a lot about Bruce Wayne being neuroatypical in canon (and it being handled respectfully) and how treatment for his mental health issues would impact his day to day life. 
> 
> I also forget to take my meds every day (like today!) and so there's real-world basis behind this. I just have all the feels when it comes to thinking about positive ways that mental health issues could be handled in the Batfamily and of course, I never need a push to write about my otp. Gosh!

Dick doesn't have to try hard to get Bruce to follow his lead.

It's the night of one of Wayne Enterprise's _many_ corporate shindigs and Bruce has been looking a little antsy since the first handfuls of guests started arriving. In fact, Bruce seems _glad_ to see Dick when he shows up at the corner where Bruce has been dragged into a lengthy discussion about local politics.

"You don't mind if I borrow Bruce for a minute, do you?" Dick smiles as he talks, fixing the group of investors with the sort of smoldering look that has literally stopped traffic before. He casts a sidelong glance at where Bruce is trying and failing to look as if he's not ecstatic at the idea of escaping from the crush of people who all want a piece of him and then shakes his head as if he's truly upset. "I wouldn't interrupt if I didn't have to, but it's important."

Dick actually has to work to hide the way he wants to fondly roll his eyes at the way that Bruce steps close to him and then pastes on a suitably sympathetic look. To anyone that didn't know Bruce, he'd look collected if a little bit concerned.

But to Dick –

Yeah. No.

He can practically smell the tension rising off of Bruce's skin. It's not good.

"It's the West Coast branch, Bruce," Dick says in a quiet but clear voice, knowing full well that the people around them are hanging on to his every word and that they have to buy the story he's spinning. "They have some questions about some marketing plan that only you can field. I have them on hold upstairs, but they really can't wait."

Bruce takes the hint well, turning to face their rapt audience.

"Have a good time and please, don't let my absence spoil the party," Bruce says with a smile that makes him look more like a mannequin than the man that Dick loves. It's a "Brucie" smile for sure, made more for mass consumption and magazine covers than for actual interactions with human beings.

Gently, Dick pulls Bruce away from his former conversation partners. The path to the outside of the ballroom and the long, glass-lined hallway are mostly clear and Dick manages to get Bruce in an elevator in under five minutes.

Once the elevator doors close, Dick allows himself the room to tilt his head back and just _look_ at Bruce. To take in the faint shadow of stubble that darkens his strong jaw and the tired slump to his shoulders.

"You know," Dick says in a quiet, almost hesitant murmur as he watches Bruce input the code that will take them to the private penthouse floor, "I could've handled things tonight. Unlike _some_ people that I could name, I got more than an hour of sleep today and have had more than one real meal in the past eight hours."

As the elevator rockets upward, Bruce huffs out a growl that comes across more annoyed than angry.

"I was _fine_ ," Bruce grits out through his tightly clenched jaw.

Dick isn't fooled for a second. He crosses his arms across his chest as the elevator slows to a smooth halt and gives Bruce a _look_.

" _Really_ ," he says, feeling his right eyebrow arch upward. "You looked like you were about to lose your shit if you didn't get out of that room. And I checked with Alfred, Bruce: You left without eating breakfast or taking your meds this morning."

Instead of responding, Bruce strides out of the elevator and into the penthouse's dimly lit foyer without a backwards glance for Dick. There's a tightness to his broad back and shoulders, a tension that almost makes Dick want to stop pushing for a moment before he remembers that Bruce wouldn't always take good care of himself otherwise.

Dick follows Bruce deeper into the penthouse until they're both standing in front of the bank of floor to ceiling windows that overlook a surprisingly calm Gotham City. He's silent at first, lost in thought and a little unsure.

"Bruce, I –" Dick sighs and shakes his head. "We're always there to check each other and trust me, if I'm telling you that you're not fine, it's because I know you too well to miss the signs. You weren't fine out there with all of those people wanting your attention and that's okay. That's why I got you out of there."

Dick turns just enough that he can watch Bruce glower down at the city stretched out before them, frowning a little when his lover doesn't immediately say or do anything. A little impatiently, Dick tries again. "Bruce –"

"I _know_ ," Bruce mutters, speaking more to the window than to Dick himself. "I got back late from patrol and had to leave straight for meetings with R&D. I didn't have time to eat or grab my pills."

"Knowing you, it probably took you until lunchtime to realize that you were starving," Dick says, with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over Bruce's left shoulder, squeezing it once before he steps close. "When did you realize that you'd forgotten your meds?"

Bruce lifts and drops his shoulders in a purposefully careless shrug.

"Sometime between the second or third time that I snapped at an intern for something ridiculous," Bruce admits before he turns and tugs Dick into a loose embrace that ends with his cheek pressed against Dick's head. "But I _did_ eat some food downstairs and I won't forget to take my medication tomorrow."

"Damn straight," Dick says, bumping his hips against Bruce's just so that he can hear his partner utter a quiet bit of laughter. "I had Damian run over with some things for us from the Manor before he went out with Jason and I made sure he grabbed our pills on his way out. We're going to stay up here tonight and in the morning, we'll _both_ have more in our stomachs than some burnt coffee and canapes. Okay?"

Bruce sighs, his breath fanning out across the top of Dick's head. Instead of pulling away though, he squeezes Dick even tighter.

"Okay," he grumbles half-heartedly. "I take it that you have a plan for explaining away our absence?"

Grinning, Dick turns so that he can glance up at Bruce's face.

"Cassandra and Tim will handle things tonight and in the morning, you can put out any fires that they've left burning."

Dick dares to brush a teasing kiss over the strong and very biteable curve of Bruce's jaw before he pulls away and takes a step backward in the direction of the master bedroom. "And hey, if we're lucky, all of the fires will be metaphorical and we'll get a chance to sleep in for a change."


End file.
